


A rúnsearc

by adlerobsessed



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Early Days, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, china is too refined to swear but Eliza and Murder are in this so, much alcohol is consumed, pre China abandoning everyone and post Skulduggery dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23722591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adlerobsessed/pseuds/adlerobsessed
Summary: While covert enmity under the smile of safety wounds the world- Shakespeare“Darling, I do hope you weren’t too upset because of that man. I don’t know what could’ve possibly came over him, to disregard you so.”Eliza laughs and then twists her painted lips into a smile, ignoring the rage that threatens to overpower her, clawing at her throat, her heart, leaving searing pain and fury.It is a baring of her teeth, the way a wolf grins before devouring its prey.“Oh, do not concern yourself on my behalf, my dear. I’d lost interest in the poor man hours ago.”China smiles sweetly. “Of course you had.”“You are more than welcome to try your luck with him.”She laughs at that, a soft, tinkling sound that fills the room, which leads to every person’s head turning to try and find the source of that delightful sound, and Eliza wants nothing more than to gouge those pretty eyes out of her head“Darling, I hardly need to try.”-When she walks into the room, Eliza is forgotten.It is only the beginning of the enmity between them.
Relationships: Eliza Scorn/China Sorrows
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	A rúnsearc

**Author's Note:**

> Did I spend my entire day writing 6k fic about Sorrowscorn meeting because I saw one quote from Death Bringer? Yes I did. I hope you enjoy, and as always, please comment if you do!!

Eliza knows she is good at what she does. Red curls, sharp green eyes, all curves, a temptress dressed in satin. When she sets her mind to it, she gets any man she could possibly want.

  
This evening seemed to be no different.

  
She’s been concerning herself with one particular gentleman throughout the evening and, by the time most of the guests have arrived, she has him wrapped around his finger, practically doting on every word that leaves her crimson lips.

  
The second _she_ walks into the room, Eliza is forgotten.

  
They’ve crossed paths before, similar circles and all that. Although she is perhaps not part of a family as influential as hers is, Eliza is by no means a commoner.

  
And so, she shouldn’t be surprised, really, she should have expected it. _The most beautiful woman in all of Ireland,_ they were calling her the last time Eliza had bothered to listen to idle gossip, _which she certainly had not asked for._

  
And yet, as she comes down the steps, draped in silk and chiffon, which must have cost a bloody fortune in these times, Eliza can’t help but silently fume as she watches the man’s head immediately turn towards the siren, jaw gaping, eyes becoming wide. She has the irresistible urge to slap him.  
China Sorrows steps off the staircase and practically every person in close proximity to her nearly falls to their knees. Eliza’s hand tightens around her glass.

  
She’s lost her chance.

  
The rest of evening becomes a blur, undoubtedly helped by the numerous glasses of wine she consumes, in order to somewhat quell her anger. And yet, when she finally comes face to face with the woman, that red, burning sensation immediately grips her once more.

  
China glides over, the crowd parting for her as it always does. She smiles softly at Eliza, kissing her on both cheeks. “Miss Scorn, what a delight. It’s been too long.”

  
Eliza forces herself to smile, so much so that her cheeks burn and ache. “Indeed, last I heard, you were in Hungary. A success, I hope?”

  
China shrugs daintily, with so much grace and ease that Eliza wondered whether it really did come that naturally to her. “I believe so, my dear,” she says, completely evading the question. “Meritorious certainly seems to be on the back foot, ever since his number of commanders.. depleted.”

  
Eliza nearly laughs at that despite herself, China’s subtlety was always something to be amazed at. Yet, her wounded pride continues to grieve her and suddenly, the wound is deepened.

  
“Darling, I do hope you weren’t too upset because of that man. I don’t know what could’ve possibly came over him, to disregard you so.”

  
Eliza laughs and then twists her painted lips into a smile, ignoring the rage that threatens to overpower her, clawing at her throat, her heart, leaving searing pain and fury.

  
It is a baring of her teeth, the way a wolf grins before devouring its prey.

  
“Oh, do not concern yourself on my behalf, my dear. I’d lost interest in the poor man hours ago.”

  
China smiles sweetly. “Of course you had.”

  
“You are more than welcome to try your luck with him.”

  
She laughs at that, a soft, tinkling sound that fills the room, which leads to every person’s head turning to try and find the source of that delightful sound, and Eliza wants nothing more than to gouge those pretty eyes out of her head

  
“Darling, I hardly need to try.”

  
She breezes off with nothing more than another polite smile.

  
Eliza manages to think of six possible ways to kill her in this room by the time she’s moved onto her next conversation with a group of older, much more respectable sorcerers, ones who would _barely greet Eliza,_ much less talk to her. Eight by the time each of them has greeted her.  
However, she continues to smile prettily, slightly adjusting a few awry scarlet locks of hair before returning to the gentleman from earlier, who seems to have recovered from his bout of incompetence.

  
The victory tastes bitter in her mouth. She takes it anyway.

_-_

It’s nearly two years before they see each other again. This time, they are not so unevenly matched. When Eliza walks into a room, she does not need to greet others. Men fall at her feet, crashing into each other in order to be the one who proclaims their love to her first.

  
Even the more senior sorcerers greet her in passing, Baron Vengeous giving her a courteous nod as she glides past.

  
Pride fills her with warmth, ecstasy even. To be recognised as more, as an equal, a better. It was everything.

  
That joy turns to ash in her mouth, heart suddenly in her throat as she sees the beautiful woman lying on the chaise longue.

  
She has not forgotten their last meeting, her humiliation. No, Eliza knows, that to avoid such an embarrassment again, she must learn from her mistakes. And so, after pausing for a moment, which certainly wasn’t because she needed to steel her nerves, Eliza approaches her.

  
Those ice blue eyes immediately latch onto her, almost freezing her in her tracks, before she catches herself. They watch her progress with lazy curiosity out of dark lashes, fixed onto her easily, never wavering, especially not when Eliza finally reaches the other woman.

  
“Miss Scorn, what a delight. It’s been too long.”

  
The same honeyed words as before, which immediately makes Eliza pause. Does this woman seriously consider her so below her?  
Luckily, one of China’s companions, Gallow, she believes, perks up before she can respond hastily. “Eliza Scorn, the one behind the little manoeuvre which saved us from losing our foothold in Italy, am I right? Nicely done.”

  
She smirks openly. “I aim to please.”

  
He laughs, standing up so he can kiss her hand. And yet, Eliza’s eyes are not focused on his. No, hers continue to stare at those eyes of ice that briefly, just for a moment, seemed to brighten, indeed, China’s languid state quickly transformed as she sat up.

  
“You were the one who devised that? I’m afraid that we’ve been rather out of the loop, embarrassingly. Stationed in Russia for the last seven months, this is the first time any of us have been in polite society for a while. Was it as successful as you hoped?”

  
She doesn’t know why, but this _honesty_ , all traces of sweetness having left China’s voice, pleases her more than Gallow’s greeting. A warm glow once again fills her.

  
She shrugs as daintily as she can manage, before saying nonchalantly, “I believe so, my dear,” leaving it at that.

  
China’s eyes narrow a fraction.

  
The victory tastes much sweeter this time around.

_-_

They cross paths more regularly now, perhaps seeing each other once every month, sometimes every other week.

  
They still trade sweet barbs, their tongues more lacerating than any blade either of them has ever wielded. Yet, there is something different about it now, something that Eliza can’t quite put her finger on. Before, it had always been her lashing out at the unassailable target, who’d deemed her as little more than a petulant child.

  
Now, though. Now, there was almost respect behind their words. When China smiles, she means it. When she laughs, it was not because of Eliza being humiliated, rather due to Eliza’s wit. It fills Eliza with a sense of accomplishment like no other.

  
It’s the eve of the Winter Solstice, a time of merriment like no other. They’ve gathered in Paris, much to Eliza’s delight, the city of beauty, love, power which satisfies her like no other.

  
The day itself, has been a delight. Snow coating the grounds and rooftops, the sky like pure ice, similar to China’s eyes, although Eliza _does not_ waste her time thinking about such things.

  
The ball is attended by thousands and thousands of sorcerers, all finely dressed and garbed, for after several centuries of being alive, most generally become fashionable in some form or another.

  
She smiles to herself after yet another admirer approaches her, asking her to dance, making him the twenty fourth to do so in just under an hour. It is an accomplishment. And then she turns and sees the woman sitting next to China.

  
China’s and Eliza’s charms has no form of judgement and so, it is not only men they attracted. Indeed, Eliza had always had members of her own sex fawning over, no matter how odd it was to her. Since a young age, Eliza’s parents had encouraged her to use her gifts as a weapon against men. Women had always been the unknown, the danger to her. Perhaps that is what bothers her so, when she sees China _actually_ smile at this woman.

  
Eliza has seen dozens, if not hundreds of men fall at China’s feet, and it does not bother her as it used to. She knows they mean nothing to China.

  
And yet, seeing this woman, sat so closely to China, irks her more than she could possibly say.

  
It has to be because of the fact that Eliza had been looking forward to her usual night of sparring with China, and _it certainly isn’t_ because of the way China is carefully pushing strands of her behind the woman’s ear, or the way her eyes soften as she looks at her.

  
No, it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with a waste of a good evening, Eliza decides firmly.

  
Besides, China has never mentioned being interested in the fairer sex, therefore it is clearly nothing more than a mere manipulation of the girl. Yes, that is it.

_She doesn’t know why she keeps stealing glances throughout the evening._

_-_

They work impeccably well together, they both realise. Both immensely intelligent, they tempered each other in ways, which only improved their effectiveness. So much so that soon, whenever China would strategise the Diablrie’s next movements, she’d ask for Eliza’s help.

  
Well, ask was a strong word. Eliza doubts that China had ever _asked for anything_ in her life. Still, she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed the hours spent with the other woman, with another mind that was so similar to her own.

  
She sits at the table in China’s study on one such occasion, swirling a glass of wine in one hand and holding a report, that she is quickly scanning through, with the other. The other woman is doing much the same, standing up and leaning over the desk, the both of them working in companionable silence.

  
China lets out a slow exhale, putting her glass down to rub her neck, clearly trying to relieve it of tension. Eliza frowns. That was the _fourth_ time she’d done that in an hour.

  
“My dear, is everything all right?”

  
China glances at her, eyebrow raised. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

  
Eliza sets down the report, leaning her head on one hand and pointing at China with the other. “Your neck, is it bothering you?’

  
China hesitates. “A little. Nothing to trouble yourself with.”

  
The words spill out her mouth before she can stop them. “I could help, if you like?”

  
China paused, tilting her head for a moment. “All right, if you wouldn’t mind, darling.”

  
Eliza stands, pushing herself out of the chair. She cautiously approaches the other woman, who is leaning on the desk with her arms crossed. She places a gentle hand on China’s arm.

  
“Turn around, please.”

  
China does with no complaint, her expression unreadable.

  
Eliza takes a deep breath before laying her hands on China’s shoulders, which were as taut as iron bands. She begins to press, moving her thumbs in slow circles, kneading her fingers so as to soothe the knots and relieve some of the tension. And soon, bit by bit, it does. The muscles smooth and lengthen, and Eliza sees the tightness leaving China’s jaw, which she’d never noticed how defined it was before, _by the Faceless_ , had she ever been this close to China before?

  
This was a mistake, she thinks, _though she doesn’t know why_ , her hands stilling on the fabric of China’s shirt and yet, she is unable to tear herself away.

  
The door opens and the two pull away sharply. Jaron walks in. “You ready to go, you two? Serpine’s waiting for the briefing in the hall.”

  
China nods, easily gathering up several sheafs of paper before marching out the room. Eliza remains where she was, frozen into place.  
“Uh, Eliza, are you coming?”

  
She blinks, suddenly noticing Jaron, as if for the first time. “What?”

  
He laughs. “Oh, you have got it so bad, haven’t you?”

  
She storms past him. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Gallow.”

_-_

It’s the evening before the planned attack and China has asked Eliza to see her in her chambers. It’s become part of their routine, visiting each other before such events, examining each plan with such intensity, trying to identify any possible fault.

  
She doesn’t knock on the door, immediately walking in. She stops dead in her tracks.

  
There’s a man lying naked in China’s bed and Eliza suddenly wants nothing more than to _strangle him_ with the very sheets she’s entwined in. She can imagine the boy _thrashing_ , face turning purple as he desperately tries to escape, before death eventually takes him into its cold and cruel embrace.

  
China coughs and Eliza turns to her, arms folded. The other woman looks puzzled.

  
“Is something the matter, my dear? You seem to be rather.. irked.”

  
She raises one haughty eyebrow, turning up her nose. “Not at all. I’m assuming you asked to see me for something more stimulating than idle conversation.”

  
China rises from the chair she had been sat in, turning to face her, increasingly long locks of hair shifting off her shoulder and Eliza suddenly realises that she is wearing a loose shirt with _nothing underneath,_ though, why that is important at this moment, she couldn’t possibly say.  
“Tomorrow, I want you to take the eastern side of the pass. Jaron and myself will focus on the main assault, but we’ll need you to command the forces that will be covering us.”

  
“We?” It’s desperate, _petty_ even.

  
She sighs, before saying softly, “I need you.”

  
“I suppose, it would be a waste of a good sparring opponent, if anything were to go amiss.”

  
She doesn’t say another word, immediately striding out of the room.

  
China doesn’t follow her.

__-_ _

The assault goes off without a hitch. Thanks to them, Mevolent has secured most of southern Europe, preventing the heathens from being able to regroup. It seemed to be only a matter of time.

  
Still, they had still taken heavy losses and now was not the time for celebration. That would come later.

  
A pale hand grabs her wrist and she instantly grabs the knife that hangs by her side, pushing it against the throat of her assailant.

  
China doesn’t even _blink. “That’s a rather ill mannered way to say hello.”_

  
“You didn’t exactly make yourself known.” Eliza counters, and indeed, she hadn’t even heard China approach.

  
China acquiesces, tilting her head. “That is fair. Still, I’m trying to be diplomatic but if you move that knife any closer to me, it will leave a mark and then I will _gut you._ ”

  
She snorts, removing the knife that China eyes with so much disgust, placing it safely back in the small scabbard hanging off her belt. “We work rather well together.”

  
“Yes,” China agrees, starting to walk down the corridor, a look thrown over her shoulder clearly stating that Eliza _is_ to follow, “We do. Jaron may find himself demoted soon enough. But enough with the pleasantries.” She opens the door to her rooms and beckons Eliza inside.

  
Eliza sits herself down on one of the many chaise longues that fills China’s set of rooms and watches as the other woman heads over to the other side of the room.

  
“The healer is a butcher incapable of recognising maggots as spoilage,” she says as if that made what what she was doing completely logical, sorting through numerous jars that were stacked on a shelf, neatly labelled. She trails her fingers along the paper, kissed by the sun, as she searched for something. “I noticed, when we returned, that you were holding one side.”

  
Eliza smiles at that. True, she had been unfortunate enough to come out of the battle with more than her fair share of bruises and scrapes but that was to be expected, nothing too serious though. However, she would be a fool not to accept her unspoken offer. China was acquainted with seemingly all magical arts, including healing. While Eliza was more used to methods requiring a less careful, less magical, touch, she knew that China’s ministrations would be more efficient.

  
China comes over, a jar under her arm and smiles charmingly, holding up a bottle of alcohol in one hand, two glasses already waiting on the table. “Wine?”

  
“China,” Eliza asks. “Are you trying to ply me with alcohol?”

  
“However else shall I win your favour?” She responds, that smile still easily perched on her lips. She pours their wine as Eliza settles more into the cushions on the chaise longue. “What of your injuries?” Eliza asks. She had likely not been the only one to sustain wounds, regardless of how adept China was at combat.

  
“Nothing more than scratches, my dear,” China says, and her voice is as cool and inviting as a fresh river in spring. “But now, my dear, I must ask that you lift your shirt up.”  
“What?” Eliza says and she must have looked incredibly offended because China laughs.

  
“I would like to inspect your injury and I can’t quite accomplish that with armour in the way,” she explains, or really – insisted. Eliza stares at China a moment before shrugging off her armour and then, feeling shy, unlacing her shirt underneath, peeling back the fabric to reveal the injuries on her ribs and back.

  
“May I?” China asks lightly. She sits down next to Eliza on the chaise longue, perching daintily on its edge, Eliza level with her. Eliza nods and she reaches forward to card her hand along Eliza’s skin to lift her shirt, the fluttering of her fingers making Eliza jump.

  
“My dear, please stop fidgeting,” China lectures, leaning in closer to examine her injuries. “Is this tender?” She asks, pressing her hands lightly on Eliza’s ribs near the bruising flesh, long fingers skimming just beneath her heart. Eliza breaths out, reaching to place her hand on China’s.

  
“It’s alright,” she says, and her voice comes out _choked_. China glances up at Eliza, eyes wide with apparent surprise. Her eyes so very pale, and so oddly luminous they almost seem like stars, like the ones in the sky just after twilight. In truth, it is a lovely night. The air, sweet and inviting, and the world, quiet.

  
Thankfully, China moves quickly on, reaching for the jar and twisting it open. Eliza breathes a sigh of relief, taking a deep gulp of wine, before focusing on the jar. “What is that, if I may ask?”  
“Oh, it’s simple,” China says, her pale skin almost glowing in the soft moonlight. “A concoction of some herbs and minerals, similar to the painkilling leaves most often used. It is good for most things – scrapes, bruises, even burns.” She scoops some of the salve onto her fingertips and carefully begins to soothe the cream onto Eliza’s injury. It stings slightly, yet soon after, it numbs the instant throbbing that had refused to abate ever since she’d been wounded by that other mage’s pesky mace.

  
“There,” China says, pleased, running her hand across Eliza’s skin, checking that the entire bruise was covered evenly and Eliza is surprised. The salve had started to work its magic, the purple edges of the bruise already softening. She realises she is startlingly close to China.

  
“Thank you,” she says, inching away slightly. China pauses for a moment, then shakes her head. “It’s no matter,” she says, her hands surprisingly gentle as she pulls down Eliza’s shirt. She stands up and puts the jar back on the shelf. She turns back.  
“You don’t mind if I change, do you?”

  
Eliza waves her hand, leaning back into the cushions again, making China smile at her with what shecould only interpret as fondness. She was used to China’s quirks by now, her _constant state_ of undress in her private chambers being one of them.

  
Still, there’s something about the way China spoke to her at times. Like she was waiting for Eliza to walk into a trap. It makes Eliza feel apprehensive, but more than that it makes her feel curious because China would be placing herself as bait, which she knew China was loath to do.

  
“You know, I’ve been asked to help out with the eradication efforts back in Ireland.” She averts her eyes respectfully as China begins to rid herself of layers of protection.

  
“Have you, now? Here I was, thinking that you’d be here to amuse me forever?”

  
“I’m sure if you asked Jaron nicely enough, he could put on a jester’s hat, perhaps sing a song or two, no matter how out of tune they might be,” Eliza quips, a sardonic smirk rising onto her lips. China laughs, and Eliza is glad, that they were coming to know each other.

  
And then she looks up and _she is utterly lost._

  
China had already removed her armour completely much earlier in the day, preparing herself for the numerous meetings to be held after their conquest. Instead, she’d been wearing a pale dress of soft blue, like the ice in her eyes.

  
And so, as she continues to unbutton her dress, it reveals more and more skin, velvet and nearly translucent in the night. Like some queen of the fae, she was utterly enthralling.  
Eliza curses herself internally for thinking such sinful thoughts about what she was seeing. She and China are both _women,_ both interested in _men,_ and they are comrades. Hard-pressed, you could call them allies.

  
When China reaches the last button, successfully unclasping it, she reaches to pull the sleeves off her body, letting her dress pool to the ground. A sheer white bodice covers her chest, more floral and less practical than Eliza had expected of China, not that she’s been expecting anything of China’s undergarments.

  
“Well,” China speaks up, focusing Eliza’s thoughts, “Whatever you think best, my darling. If you think your talents are better suited elsewhere, do not let me keep you.” She pulls a dressing gown from her wardrobe, this one a light shade of luxurious green. This close, Eliza discovers that, China, while taller, has a frame that is firm but slight. Eliza, all curves and toned muscles, is larger than her, despite what an intimidating figure China could make. Her strength is not physical as it is with Eliza.  
“Would you prefer me to stay?”

  
“My dear, I would be a hypocrite to refuse you,” China says, giving her a charming smile as she sits on another sofa after dressing, reclining slightly with only her elbows holding her upright now, posture inviting.

  
“I must admit, your company would be sorely missed,” She says, seriously, “However, I shall not keep you in this tower, like some dragon. I’d rather not have any more men with swords come dashing after me, no matter how handsome they may be.”

  
Eliza laughs, bringing over China’s glass to her. “Does that make me the blushing maiden then? Strange, not to be the wicked witch for once.”

  
“Truth be told, I find it’s best to be both.” China agrees, taking her glass and sipping at it, licking her lips soon after. From an aesthetic point of view, like that of someone admiring a painting, China has a lovely mouth.

  
“And you, China?” Eliza asks, feeling slightly out of breath, looking away. “Which would you be?”

  
“My darling, I’m a sorcerer and will likely look like the blushing maiden for another two centuries if not three,” China says slowly, deliberately. “Which would you say I am?”

  
China is the maiden and the monster, innocence and sin combined. She was all these things, and more, and she was very close to Eliza now. She’s dangerous, inviting. And she cannot be refused.

  
Eliza’s body is burning to be so near to China, and she doesn’t know why. All she knows is that China is nearly nude before her, just clothing separating them now, and Eliza suddenly, desperately, wants to change that. She wants to undress China fully and – and – and she doesn’t know what.

  
“I am a woman, Eliza,” China says softly. “As are you. That is all.”

  
That should have served as a reminder to Eliza, of how wrong this is. A reminder of her place, of who she is speaking to. But it does not. Instead, Eliza moves closer to China, sitting next to her on the sofa, their bodies nearly touching.

  
China, in a rare bout of kindness, neither leans away or inches closer, allowing Eliza to decide. Eliza breathes. She doesn’t know what she is doing, she’s never done this and she doesn’t know why China is humouring her. She has nothing to gain from this. But there are China’s hands, moving up to rest on Eliza’s, almost comforting.

  
Again, she pauses, giving Eliza time to think. But Eliza can’t think. All she can do is feel China’s warm skin against hers, China’s reassuring hands on her own. All she can think about is China’s mouth, just moments away from hers.

  
And she can see China take in a shaky breath. And then she finds herself incapable of doing anything but leaning in to press her lips against China’s.

  
China’s hands move to grasp Eliza’s face, pulling her closer against her, and Eliza leans forward, moving China backwards on the couch. China’s legs spread open, hands clutching Eliza’s face, and Eliza moves between them, practically climbing into her lap.

  
She doesn’t know what it is she is doing, what she wants to do, what she can do, but China’s lips taste sweet like wine and she is warm and her hands are kind and pliant and Eliza wants to have her, possess her. Whatever that meant, all else be damned. She feels like fire, all-consuming and desperate.

  
China runs her hands along the backs of Eliza’s arms, sending shivers up her spine. She is completely and utterly lost, but she hopes that she came off assured as she opens her mouth to glance her tongue along China’s lips, licking into her mouth. She hears China let out a soft sound she’s never heard before and that, if nothing else, causes Eliza to pause.

  
China surrenders Eliza’s lips and leans back so slightly, trailing her hands up to her shoulders. She’s kissed her. They have kissed. “China,” Eliza suddenly retreats, _blame_ in her voice. But even if she has moved back, she is still holding onto China’s waist.

  
China’s eyes are almost catlike, and have darkened somehow, even her lips looking as though they’ve been kissed, shining in the night. Her chest, rising and falling as she breathes. So, China isn’t some untouchable thing.

  
“You must not tell _anyone_ ,” Eliza blurts out, jumping from China as though by reflex and like she’s been stung, standing on unsteady legs. China sits up slowly, as though not to frighten Eliza.

  
“Of course,” she assures Eliza. She is still half-naked, Eliza’s fingers having pulled that dressing gown off her, but she looks no more vulnerable for it, though it is clear Eliza’s reaction has worried her.

  
“We can forget about this,” Eliza says, massaging her temple with her hand. “It was stupid of me. The wine.”

  
“Yes,” China lies easily along with her. “Wine is cause of much foolishness.” Though Eliza has hardly drunk three sips, and there lies China on the sofa, skin bare and shining silver in the glow of the night, breathing hard, and Eliza both desperately wants her and wants to escape those piercing eyes.  
She chooses the latter, shame and regret following her.

  
The next day, she finds the nearest teleporter and goes to Ireland.

_-_

It’s been over five years since they’ve last seen each other and Eliza is _dreading it._

  
She hasn’t been avoiding her purposely, she tell herself. Eliza is many things. A coward is not one of them. And yet, here she is, desperately trying to find some way to avoid the most beautiful woman in the world, who arrived only an hour ago.

  
It seems that luck is on her side, or rather, China is also trying to avoid her before the celebrations for the summer solstice begin, as the pair don’t meet.

  
Instead, Jaron Gallow saunters into the hall, his eyes lighting up as he spots her, the rest of the Diablrie following. “Eliza Scorn, it’s been awhile.”

  
She smiles sincerely, abandoning the conversation she’d been having with several admirers and moving towards him. “Too long, my darling. How have you been?” She leans in to kiss him on both cheeks.

  
He grins, that lopsided grin that has charmed so many women. To her, it is merely endearing. “Well, you know. Fighting, praying, mourning the beautiful redhead that fled our ranks so suddenly. I hope it wasn’t personal.”

  
She laughs, disguising the sudden fear that gripped her heart, squeezing it uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to make goodbyes, but duty did call.”

  
He shrugs, taking her hand and kissing it. “I have somehow recovered from the heartbreak. Besides, you left at an opportune time.”

  
Murder Rose snorts, taking a glass of whiskey and downing it in one go, before taking another. “Believe me, we all wish we had done too.”

  
Eliza frowns. “What on earth do you mean?”

  
Jaron sits down heavily, pulling her with him, and leans in conspiratorially. “After you left, to put it mildly, China was a nightmare.”

  
“A complete and utter _bitch_ , he means,” Murder adds, face scrunching up as she seemed to relieve a nasty memory. Even Gruesome Krav, normally silent, grunted in agreement.

  
Jaron looks at the pair of them. “Now, is that anyway to talk about our esteemed leader?”

  
Murder shrugs. “If there weren’t so many people around, I would’ve called her a lot more names. For one, she was a cun-”

  
“Yes, _thank you,_ Murder,” Jaron quickly cuts in, flashing her a reproaching look, before turning back to Eliza. “Just be glad you weren’t there, we were worked to the bone for practically two entire years before her bad mood wore off.”

  
“Any specific reason behind this black mood of hers?” Eliza asks, praying that her racing heart won’t give her away.

  
Jaron ponders for a moment, before giving up. “As far as I know? No.”

  
She smiles then excuses herself, saying that she has some urgent matters to attend to, but not before she agrees to save him a dance that evening. Murder even smiles at her before she goes.  
She doesn’t know what to do with this new information. All these years, she didn’t actually believe that China wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened between them. Secrets, words and information were weapons utilised by China Sorrows as frequently as her magic was.

  
_And yet here they were._

_-_

She is divine, dressed in red, hair falling in harsh flames of red, lips painted red. She knows she is beautiful. It does nothing to still her ever beating, treacherous heart. But it is all she can do. And so she enters the hall.

  
She doesn’t see her, can’t spot her amongst the thousands upon thousands of sorcerers who have gathered there to celebrate. It sits uncomfortably, as Eliza knows that when China Sorrows is in a room, one needs only look where all others look to find the most beautiful woman in the world.

  
She spends the rest of evening in a constant state of distress, steadily growing as no such woman appears. She dances with so many people, even Jaron, who attempts to amuse her with his easy smiles and laughs. It is unsuccessful but she still forces a smile onto her lips, one she knows will appear sincere to everyone except one. And still, her fear grows.

  
She sits for a moment, drinking heavily from a glass. Dozens of admirers immediately crowd her and she wants nothing more than to sweep every single one of them from the earth. Yet, they keep on surrounding her, tripping over each other in an attempt to make her smile first, laugh first, dance with them first.

  
And then _the most beautiful woman in the world_ sits next to her and takes her wine glass from her just as it was about to slip from her shocked fingers. China smiles _the most beautiful smile_ she has ever seen and it is so full of danger and menace that Eliza nearly chokes. “Miss Scorn, what a delight. It’s been too long.”

  
She leans in close, so close that Eliza is afraid that she will kiss her, and brushes her lips against Eliza’s cheek and while she sits there, paralysed in fear, China takes a sip of Eliza’s drink, before wrapping Eliza’s fingers back around her glass, and stands up.

  
She leaves not moments later and _all_ of Eliza’s admirers follow. For once, Eliza does not mind, and immediately flees to the corridor outside the hall.

  
She leans her head against the cool cobblestones of the wall, hoping they may settle her spinning head, and yet, her stomach continues to lurch, heart beating more and more rapidly.  
She cannot go back in, no matter how much she tries to force herself.

  
And so, she slides to the ground, not caring how her dress may be ruined or become dirty. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, her mind continuing to refuse to work comprehensibly.  
Eventually, she hears the bells, which mark the end of the official festivities, although she knows the actual festivities will continue long into the night, and so she stands up. As she does, she sees _her_ come into the corridor.

  
They both freeze, both unsure which is the prey and predator of them, seemingly at an impasse. Eliza being Eliza, does what she does best. She lets her emotions take control.

  
She storms towards the other woman, so furiously that by the time China even thinks of running, Eliza has her by the arm and pushes her back into the wall. “What, by the Faceless, are you playing at?” Eliza practically snarls and China’s eyebrows go up a fraction.

  
“I have no idea what you mean, my dear.” China’s voice is calm, cool like the ice that runs through Eliza’s veins. And finally, she could see just how inviting China had been to Eliza all those years ago, to see her cold like this and that infuriates her to no end.

  
“Don’t you fucking dare call me _my dear_!”

  
That takes China aback and she sneers in such a way that, for the first time ever, Eliza finds her _repulsive_. “And what would you prefer me to call you? There are several names I can think of that follow that line of poor manners.”

  
Eliza nearly screams in her face, only restraining herself barely. Even when arguing, China refused to address the issue.

  
“Enough of the games, let’s just discuss this like adults. By the Faceless, we’re nearly a century past that.”

  
“Coming from the woman who practically fled from my chambers in the middle of the night.” China laughs cruelly, “Yes, shall you show me for the first time that actually possess the maturity of such an adult?”

  
“You don’t know why I fled.” Eliza counters, fury growing more and more.

  
“I don’t have to. I know a coward when I see one.”

  
She explodes. “I ran because I was terrified because _I didn’t know what to do!_ ”

  
“You… you what?” China stops speaking, confusion filling her voice. Her brow furrows as she pulls back to look at Eliza.

  
Eliza flounders, suddenly aware again of her hammering heartbeat. “I’ve never.. I.. I’ve never been that way with..”

  
“Oh,” China says softly, all anger melting away from her body. “ _Oh_ , Eliza.”

  
“It was overwhelming, you were, are, overwhelming, and I didn’t know what I wanted, I mean, I wanted you but I didn’t, I couldn’t..”

  
China remained silent, allowing herself to be trapped in Eliza’s arms, and Eliza has absolutely no idea what is going through her mind until she lifts a tentative hand to Eliza’s face, and she feels tears start to rise in her eyes.

  
“Is this alright?” China asks, all the softness and light once again filling her voice and Eliza merely nods. China leans in closer, her lips nearly touching hers, and Eliza nearly freezes again.

  
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers helplessly.

  
China leans her forehead against hers. “I’ll show you.” And then, almost painfully slowly, she kisses her.

_-_

When she walks into a room, Eliza is forgotten by all.

  
She does not mind.

  
For all are forgotten, when China walks into a room with Eliza.


End file.
